Betrayal
by put here 2 feel joy
Summary: Draco Malfoy holds a masquerade and a mysterious girl shows up. She disappears and he is desperate to find her again. What will Draco do to get her back and what is this girl really up to? Dramione. I'm going safe with the rating. R&R ON HOLD


Masks

_Disclaimer!: I DO NOT own these characters. All Harry Potter characters belong to the wonderful, J.K. Rowling._

_A/N!: I've posted this is a mash up of my three chapters from Masks due to the complaint about my short chapters. I can't blame you. I don't like short chapters either. I've added some stuff and fixed some errors. I hope you like it and thanks for reading!_

…

**T**he ball was extravagant, even for him. A masquerade fit for royalty. He would never admit it however, he was falling into his family's footsteps--_but only the finer side_, he reassured himself. He had been of wizarding age for three years now, but occasionally he was told he still had a lot of growing up to do. This party was just him trying to prove himself to the world.

It was late and the fires had all gone out save for the floating candles magicked high above their twirling, masked heads. The guests may have been thinning out, but music breathed energy into the remaining party. He had danced with his fair share of girls tonight, but this girl was the most remarkable. Her mask, which resembled an ornately feathered owl, curved her nose into a small, beaded beak and reached just past her cheekbones. Her dress was a stunning red that attracted the eyes of all she passed. The seemed like she had been to many masquerades during her short time on earth.

It may have been the champagne, but he couldn't keep his mind off her lips. Painted so red… Looking so supple and full… Practically begging to be smothered by his… But he mentally slapped himself. He wasn't being proper.

Though, 'proper' wasn't always the best way to describe him. The allure of this mystery girl was getting to his now ardently hazed mind.

But his own mask was frustrating him. He knew that even if he _did_ close that last few inches between them, there would no satisfying warmth, no pleasurable fulfilling of their longings. His mask, like his most desired form, was a white dragon. Both his name and name_sake_ combined in one. But his custom-made mask (that once filled him with deep-seated pride) was now his only source of aggravation.

There was a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth now. She gingerly placed her gloved arms up and over his shoulders. He tightened his grip on her hips. _She's thinking the exact same thing_, purred a voice from the back of his head, _She wants you as much as you want her_.

He smirked behind his mask and clasped his hands together behind her corseted back, pulling the two closer together. As they swayed, he placed his chin one her shoulder, breathing in the heavy vanilla sent she wore in her thick, curly brown hair. He let out a hot sigh onto the back of her neck. She smelt just like he thought she would. But unlike most girls he got this close to, she tensed and suddenly pushed him off of her.

Her gloved hands that were once lovingly around his neck were now on his shoulders holding her body at arms length. There was a dark blush visible under the edges of her impressive mask.

He then realized his mistake; by putting her arms around his neck, she meant to lean up and whisper a goodbye into his ear, maybe whisper thanks for the dance and casually disappear into the crowd -- not to grant him his lustful wish.

And now she _was_ disappearing into the crowd, but a little less casually.

Shocked, he watched her hurry away for a moment before rushing after her. He made a snatch for her wrist, but missed. She had gotten too far ahead. Weaving through the mass of dancers in elegant gowns and shocking masks, there was suddenly a loud _crack!_ The crowd parted with shouts of surprise and his mystery girl was nowhere to be seen.

…

"**I** had her, Blaise!" Draco shouted angrily at his best friend who seemed to be ignoring him. Blaise Zabini looked like he could have been an African prince in a past life, but unfortunately for the Congo, he lived in Great Britain. Draco on the other hand, was as pale as Blaise was dark. He had platinum blonde hair and stormy gray eyes. And at the moment, they were practically thundering.

"And she slipped right between your fingers, I know..." replied Blaise, lazily picking his fingernails. It was the fourth time he had heard the story today; Draco had been raving about this mystery girl all afternoon.

House elves were dashing about the high ceilinged ball room cleaning up what was left of the previous night's festivities. The two men were lounging on a recently conjured sofa in the middle of it all. Being so used to the use of their elvin resources, they paid no attention to the objects flying in every which direction to several rubbish bins scattered about the expansive room.

Draco glared at Blaise as a large eared house elf lifted his legs to take the rug from underneath his feet. How could he not be intrigued? Maybe it was more of a "you had to be there" moment, but to Draco it was stimulating. He _had_ to find her again.

"I'm going to plan another party — another masquerade." the blonde stated, eyes unfocused in thought. "She'll come back. I think she really likes to show herself off. I can't blame her." He remembered the feathers on the mask and the beak over her nose, with those perfect, red lips smiling below it and how much he wanted to —

"Wait," interrupted Blaise. "You don't even know this girl's name let alone what she likes! Which, by the way, apparently, isn't you. She's not going to come back just because you want her to."

"Oh, wonderfully supportive, Blaise thanks." Draco retorted dryly.

"I'm sorry, mate," said Blaise, but his tone was less than apologetic. Draco pursed his lips in annoyance. "But, I'm just being realistic. Don't you think your being a little rash? You danced with her for ten minutes and now you're throwing a whole new party just to lure her back to you?"

Thinking for a moment, Draco finally said, "Well? Why the bloody hell can't I try?" An air of defiance aloft in his voice.

Blaise scoffed "Oh, come off it!" raising his voice, hoping to stop this nonsense. "Your obsessed, Draco! Forget her and move on! You're acting like were back in Hogwarts. As a Malfoy you should know there are plenty of other unicorns in the forest."

Draco was slightly taken aback and glowered back at Zabini in disbelief. He stood up and walked away a few feet, scattering a few house elves in the process. One even dropped a mop and cowered away.

"Are you kidding me, Blaise?" Draco asked sharply, "I am not obsessed! Girls obsess over me, but it's never the other way around," His confidence in what he was saying cracked a bit. "I just can't seem to stop thinking about her… I always get what I want, why should this girl be any different?

"I want her, and she will be mine."

_In more ways than one_, growled the voice lurking in the back of his mind. He smirked darkly in agreement. Another masquerade was absolutely what would bring her back. Blaise was wrong and he was sure of it. Blaise just rolled his eyes. This had happened before in school many times, when was Draco going to give up on his little power trips?

"Alright," Draco bellowed suddenly. Blaise jumped, glancing at the blonde wearily. "There's only one way to settle this," Draco stuck out his hand to Blaise and declared triumphantly, "I bet you 40 Galleons that if I host a new party next week my girl will come back. If she doesn't show, then we'll know who's right then, wont we?" Blaise looked at Draco then his open hand and cracked a grin. Draco always did have a knack for amusing him.

"Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?

"… No."

"Then shake!" Draco shook his empty hand impatiently.

Blaise's grin had fallen slightly on one side, turning his smile into a smirk. He chuckled and grasped Draco's hand, giving it a firm shake,

"Deal."

**T**here was a loud _crack!_ And a girl came stumbling into the night. But she was not an ordinary girl; not only was she magical (in both figurative and literal senses) but she was clad in an elegant, red ball gown and a heavily feathered mask as if come from some important event. Her head was spinning as she tripped up the steps and practically fell onto her front door. She couldn't believe she actually went though with it!

Grabbing a few lost bearings, she turned her back on the locked door and abruptly slid down it onto the front step. Impatiently pushing her long curly hair out of her eyes, where it had become entangled in the feathers of her beautiful mask; she took out her minuscule, beaded bag and reached down into it. She didn't just rummage around for her key, but seemed to deposit her whole arm into its small space. A few loud clunks and chimes later she pulled out a full key ring.

"Why I need to carry so many things, I'll never know…" The girl mumbled to herself shaking her head as she got up. Taking off her shoes, she turned and unlocked the door to let herself in.

Crookshanks was the first thing she saw as she stepped over the thresh hold. Meowing with all his little might, he climbed up onto back of the nearest couch, waiting to be scratched on the head. "Oh, Crookshanks…" Hermione Granger smiled down at the squashed faced cat, "What would I ever do without you?" She crooned, gingerly taking off her mask with one hand. But even as she looked at her brush tailed cat, the memories of the party came flooding back behind her eyes.

She sat down on her overstuffed loveseat suddenly feeling very tired.

It wasn't as if the party hadn't been wonderful, it was just that it ended rather awkwardly-what with her Disapperating in the middle of everyone and all. She was afraid she had made a fool of herself. But even so, she seemed to have caught _his_ attention fully before she left. She smiled smugly at that. Her plan was working.

After all that had happened only three short years ago she wasn't sure she should make these advances on Draco Malfoy (or just plainly Malfoy as she usually referred to him). All those terrible things that happened in his home back in their Seventh Year seemed like a bad dream. She didn't know how she could even look at him like a normal wizard now. She almost felt ashamed to let him touch her like he did, but she was certain he wasn't fond of those times either. No one was... Besides, she had to do it. It was for the best.

After Voldemort's fall, the war didn't end completely. There were still a few rogue Deatheaters causing havoc every now and then, but in time they eventually stopped. All convicted Ex-Deatheaters were tried and sentenced to time in Azkaban but most were released within three to four months only slightly hollowed from their short stay with the Dementors. Just wearing the symbol on they're left forearm wasn't enough for a life sentence after all. Only full-fledged killers were locked away forevermore. Because Draco never received the Dark Mark, he was never punished. He was left to pick up the pieces of his broken life, but otherwise he remained untouched. Out of spite, she, Harry and Ron had thought of many unlucky things that should have happened to him just for being alive. Old school rivalries never completely died. Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor. Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin. It was childish but it was just the way things were.

_Oh no_, she thought, suddenly reminded, _What will Ron and Harry think of me after this? _Her stomach lurched once and she closed her eyes. _They'll think I'm betraying them. _Hermione sighed.

She chose not to elaborate on that troubling thought and instead got up from her overstuffed chair and walked to the kitchen for a glass of water. Hermione poured herself a cup and leaned on the counter with he cold glass against her forehead. Crookshanks rubbed himself on her legs below.

_Oh my_… She smiled, placeing a hand on her red corsetted tummy. She was still wearing her gown and noted that she must have looked absurdly out of place in her small, muggle kitchen. She felt so pretty and unlike herself. For a bookworm she shined up very well.

Scrunching her brow she asked the cat at her feet,"Crookshanks, what have I gotten myself into?" The tawney cat only meowed in return. The girl looked at the ceiling lazily. "I have work in the morning. I'd better get off to bed," she announced to herself and she reluctantly headded off to her bedroom, a hand reaching back to untie her laces.

…

_This apparently takes place about three years after the events in The Deathly Hallows. Our main characters are now 20 years old._

_All previously indicated couples are now void. This is my world now and you're reading in it. :D_

_Do you like it?? Yes, no, maybe? Thanks for reading! Please review before you leave._


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